Ramble-amble-ding-dong

Last night as I slept, I dreamed I met with Behan.
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day.
When questioned on his views on the crux of life's philosophies,
He had but these few clear and simple words to say:

I am going, I am going,
Any which way the wind may be blowing.
I am going, I am going,
Where streams of whiskey are flowing.

I have cursed, bled and sworn, jumped bail and landed up in jail;
Life has often tried to stretch me, but the rope always went slack.
And now that I've a pile, I'll go down to the Chelsea.
I'll walk in on my feet but I'll leave there on my back.
Because:

I am going, I am going,
Any which way the wind may be blowing.
I am going, I am going,
Where streams of whiskey are flowing.

Oh the words that he spoke seemed the wisest of philosophies.
There's nothing ever gained by a wet thing called a tear.
When the world is too dark and I need the light inside of me.
I'll go into a bar and drink fifteen pints of beer.

I am going, I am going,
Any which way the wind may be blowing.
I am going, I am going,
Where streams of whiskey are flowing.

That song, my loyal half-dozen, is Streams of Whiskey by Shane MacGowan, and it's relevant to today's disjointed post for any number of reasons....

Firstly, there are indeed streams of whiskey in my immediate future. Oh yes yes y'all; post-work, post-hitting people I'll be bringing myself The Whiskey. Bringing you The Sexy is not all glamor and accolades and guest spots on Hollywood Squares. Sometimes it's heartache and conflict and overdue library books.

Secondly, the song references Brendan Behan, who said wonderful things like...
"The most important things to do in the world are to get something to eat, something to drink and somebody to love you."
"It's a queer world, God knows, but the best we have to be going on with"
...which always make any list of quotes I compile or contribute to. So go and read Borstal Boy already.

Thirdly, the song is stuck in my head, on endless rotation. This is because I heard it before I was properly caffeinated, when my brain was all soft and mushy, instead of the fierce feral thinking engine it turns into with a little coffee. And because my brain was soft and mushy, and because I heard Streams of Whiskey in that vulnerable state, the song was burned into my brain for all of today.

Which kind of makes me like a Manchurian Candidate, except I live Quincy. So I'm the Quincy Candidate. Or the Quinchurian Candidate. Whatever. But the point remains if you can get to me before I've caffeinated, you can program all sorts of things into my brain: song lyrics, knock knock jokes, movie quotes - the possibilities are endless. Heck, maybe you could program me to do things like a real Manchurian Candidate could be programmed.(But not evil things, because my powers must only be used for good.) So maybe half-way through the day I'd be stricken with an inexplicable urge to lambada about the cafeteria, or stand up on my desk and strip while singing I'm A Little Teapot.

But probably not. Because I'm aware of this possibility and I'm watching you, and taking precautions. I won't do the lambada and I won't be taken alive.

And that's one to grow on.